Phantom Pains
by E.Wills
Summary: Shortly after the events in the first film, Hiccup struggles with phantom limb pain. Astrid, thankfully, has some remedies. [Hiccstrid] Shameless fluff.


**Author's Note:** Shortly after HTTYD1, Hiccup suffers phantom limb pain, and Astrid has some remedies.

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Not even a week had gone by since the incident with the Red Death, and Berk had already underwent so much change. Fundamentally different from what it had once been, Hiccup was still getting used to the sight of Viking and dragons living peacefully together. It was such a peculiar thing to watch formidable dragon slayers, such as Gobber and his father, developing a fondness for the winged reptiles they once enjoyed gutting with extreme prejudice.

As strange as it was, Hiccup was thankful—more for Toothless' sake than anything else. He had grown rather attached to the Night Fury and was much more at ease having the dragon around. Conversation was a bit one-sided, but Hiccup felt like he somehow understood what Toothless thought and felt as clearly as if he had stated it. It was a funny thing, but he felt connected to the Night Fury, and he had the suspicion that the clever dragon somehow understood him, as well.

"What do you think, bud?" Hiccup asked, sliding the Book of Dragons across the table toward his scaly companion.

His father had insisted he take it easy while he recovered, which was proving a difficult task for someone so naturally restless, though there was a practicality to the advice. He had not yet healed—the bruises were still tender, the scrapes still stung, and his leg…well, he tried not to think about it unless he had to. Walking was very painful and cumbersome, but having a dragon to help him get around was a great comfort. His leg did not hurt as much when he was flying with Toothless, so if he had somewhere to be, he flew there. He enjoyed the freedom to be seen with his Night Fury in public, as well as the relief it brought to his aching stump to be off the ground.

Toothless inched closer to the table, curiously sniffing the old tome which had once served as their how-to manual for killing dragons. Hiccup had dedicated a lot of time to editing it, finding the material within rather educational, once "kill on sight" had been struck from it. There was next to nothing on Night Furies, and so he passed the hours filling those blank pages with everything he had learned about his dragon, leaving plenty of room to add to it.

Toothless tilted his head as he studied the sketch of his kind, tail intact. Hiccup had redrawn it for overall accuracy, though both he and his dragon were much more evenly matched in their physical shortcomings. Tail fin gone—amputated leg. Hiccup figured it was some kind of poetic justice for shooting the Night Fury down in the first place. He would not go so far as to say he deserved the loss of limb, but…

He had grown tired of sitting, so he stood up slowly, hissing as he put weight on his injury. Toothless warbled softly with concern, his large eyes watching his Viking counterpart carefully as he moved. The Night Fury was very attentive and protective, sensing his rider's new vulnerability and displaying a level of compassion Hiccup had once thought was impossible for dragons to feel.

"I'm alright, bud," he lied as he gripped the edge of the table tightly to steady himself.

Toothless was not fooled.

The dragon bowed his head and extended his neck forward, offering himself as the crutch Hiccup desperately needed as he hobbled around his house. With a small, appreciative smile, Hiccup leaned on the Night Fury to lessen the pressure on his prosthetic. He fully intended to reach complete independence as soon as possible, but it was admittedly difficult when everything was still so raw.

"Thanks," he murmured and the dragon growled affectionately.

Hiccup took a deep breath and straightened up, grimacing from the sharp pain that radiated down from where bone pressed into sensitive flesh, rubbing relentlessly against hard, uncomfortable wood. Over time, the nerve endings would likely dull to the repetitive stimulation, but there was a newer agony that came over him—one that was sudden, unexpected, and left him baffled and reeling on how to cope with it. Stretching beyond his stump, a harsh burn engulfed his lower leg—only, it was not possible. Nothing remained below the amputation but the prosthetic and the bitter reminder of what he had lost. Still, it felt as though something was there—a piece of him that ached intensely and could not be relieved.

He swore under his breath and put more of his weight onto his dragon, but it did nothing to diminish the pain in part of a limb that no longer existed. A desperation began to well up inside him at the prospect of a perpetual suffering without remedy.

"Hiccup?" came a distinctly female voice as the front door of his house creaked open.

There had been no knock, but when Hiccup looked up and saw Astrid standing in his doorway, her bold entrance seemed only typical—as did the familiar skipped beat of his heart and nervous twisting of his stomach.

"A-Astrid!" he stammered, trying to put on a brave face for the girl who abhorred weakness.

"Snotlout asked me to come find you, because the idiot is too proud to do it himself," she explained, sounding exasperated. "His dragon keeps setting himself on fire whenever…"

She trailed off, narrowing her eyes at the limp in his gait and the half-concealed frown as he clung to Toothless. His palms grew sweaty and his heart raced as she strode over to him, hands on her hips. She was still so intimidating—as much as she was stunningly beautiful. A tentative friendship had formed between them, but Hiccup could not yet predict if she would lash out and hit him, or pull him in for an unanticipated kiss of appreciation or gratitude. He felt on edge around her—a strange combination of being guarded and excited.

"Are you hurting?" she asked, gaze flickering down to his leg.

"No! No, of course not!" he replied with a shaky, dismissive laugh. "I mean, it's a little sore but nothing I can't—"

"Shut up. You're hurting," she stated impatiently, and he fell silent.

There was no disguising physical discomfort from Astrid. Trained in combat, she was highly attune to subtle physical cues, but where Hiccup had expected some level of criticism or mockery, he found a surprising air of sympathy. She dropped her hands to her sides and considered his tense posture with a compassion and softness he had never really seen in her—not since that hurried kiss in the cove. In only a few days, he had become closer to Astrid than ever before, but she was still every bit as confusing as she had always been. She appeared to care about him, but Hiccup could not determine to what extent, tormenting his adolescent hormones.

"Y-Yeah," he admitted, "but I'll manage."

"Hmm," Astrid mused, taking a step closer.

Hiccup stepped back, reflexively, and winced at the twinge in his stump and persistent burning in the ghost of his left leg.

"It's that crude prosthetic, isn't it?" Astrid asked, standing much too close for Hiccup's comfort.

The onslaught of pain and attraction rattled his brain, both competing for his attention with equal ferocity.

"Sometimes, but…right now…right now it's more…" He was having trouble forming coherent thought. The throbbing in his missing limb grew stronger and he had to breathe through it—the pounding of his heart was also distracting. "In my left leg…" he continued, gesturing vaguely.

Astrid stared back at him curiously.

"Right. Where your leg presses against the—?"

"No. Lower," Hiccup gasped, grasping for Toothless again.

The dragon was there for him, patiently standing by for when he was needed. Meanwhile, Astrid's confusion became more pronounced.

"But Hiccup…there's nothing there. Your leg is gone," she told him.

He stared back at her, frowning. Forcing a sarcastic tone through his mounting discomfort, he replied, "I know that, Astrid."

She sighed heavily and reached out, taking him lightly by the arm—much gentler pressure compared to how she usually handled him. It sent a ripple of frenzied pleasure to the core of his being to mingle with the unremitting ache coursing up from his prosthetic.

"What are you doing?" he asked, resisting her a little.

"Just trust me," she said—but he was not sure that he did. Yet.

In all honesty, he barely knew her apart from the cool, aloof young lady he once mistaken her for.

With an uncompromising tug on his arm, Astrid guided him over to his stairs and he did not bother to stifle his agonized groans as he hobbled along—he was not winning any awards for false grittiness. Toothless followed closely behind them, eyeing Astrid suspiciously, uncertain of her intentions with his fragile human. Hiccup tried to reassure him, reaching back with his free hand to soothe the Night Fury.

"Sit," Astrid commanded, maneuvering him rather forcefully into place before pushing him down.

He did not believe she meant to be so rough as he fell unceremoniously back against the stairs. The look on her face did not support it. Hiccup felt she was trying to be genuinely helpful, though lacked the experience in being delicate. He wondered if all of their interactions would be similar—if he was fated to be forever manhandled by the girl he desired, and why, above all else, he did not really mind as much as he could.

Being seated took a great deal of painful pressure off the stump of his leg, but that strange cramping and burning lingered. No matter how he shifted his prosthetic, it did not lessen. Astrid did not seem at all surprised by his continued suffering, and she roamed about his house like she had already been granted free rein. Hiccup watched her with furrowed brow until she returned with a basin of warm water collected from the pot over the hearth and a rag she had found.

"I think you're having phantom pain," she told him, setting the basin down by his feet. "I heard my mom mention it before. It can happen when you lose an arm or a leg."

Apart from being gifted in killing dragons, there were a handful of Vikings on Berk skilled in healing, salves, and herbal remedies—Astrid's mother was one of these individuals. For as prone to injuries as their people were, it was a necessary trade to learn.

"I'm hurting in a part of my body that's no longer there?" Hiccup asked, flatly. _"Fantastic."_

He heard Gobber occasionally complain of such things, though his wounds were old and his discomfort only fleeting. Hiccup had thought the older man was merely exaggerating at the time.

"Stop whining," Astrid scolded, dipping the rag in the basin of warm water. "I have an idea."

He stared at her skeptically, unsure if her prowess on the battlefield could be extended to treating wounds in the aftermath, too.

"Take off the metal leg," she instructed, "and roll up your pants."

Hiccup felt his mouth go dry.

_"Wha_t?" he replied, fingers twitching anxiously on his knees.

He had not removed the prosthetic in front of anyone, and there was a line of vulnerability he was not yet willing to cross with Astrid, blossoming friendship or not. In his efforts to adapt to being a new amputee, he tried to acknowledge the injury as little as possible. Probably counter-intuitive, it still put his mind at ease not to think about it, much less look at the gnarled remnants of his lower left extremity.

"I think this will help," Astrid insisted, wringing the wet rag over the basin.

"You think—? Can't I just…take some kind of powdered Feverfew, or essence of Valerian—?"

"That's not going to help with phantom pain," she insisted. "So, unless you want to keep hurting unnecessarily—"

"Why are you doing this?" Hiccup blurted out, quickly moving his leg away from her outstretched hand. "Why do you want to help me all of a sudden?"

He did not mean for the questions to come out so accusatory, but he was tense and defensive as the girl of his dreams eyed his fresh disability—it caused him to be far more self-conscious than his own diminutive stature ever had. Astrid gazed up at him, looking a bit scalded by his words. Her blue eyes were remorseful and Hiccup felt an odd sort of warmth come over him, seeing her softer, apologetic demeanor. Astrid had never glanced at him like that before—like she put a great deal of worth in what he thought, and he was moved by her consideration.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, not quite meeting her gaze. "I didn't mean—"

"It's okay," she interrupted quietly. "You have every right."

They sat in silence for a moment, avoiding eye contact—Astrid idly toying with the rag in her hands while Hiccup's breathing was a bit labored from the persistent pain.

Eventually, she spoke up and said, "I want to help because of what you did for us—for Berk. You shouldn't have had to…most of us wouldn't have…and for…for everything else."

Everything else.

It was her go-to reason when more eloquent speech failed her, but Hiccup felt he understood, and it gave him a rush of affection and pride to finally, _finally_ receive some kind of praise and recognition from Astrid. He did not think anything he had done was unusually heroic, given that the Red Death needed to be destroyed—there was no debating that issue—and he had merely had the tools at his disposal to face the dragon/ He did not believe that he was the only person on Berk capable of such bravery. After all, how many has suffered loss of life and limb to protect their family and assets during dragon raids? Needless bloodshed and violence aside, that courage was very real. Still, he felt his ears burn from Astrid's admiration, which he had long since coveted.

_'All I had to do was lose a leg, first,'_ he thought sarcastically, and then he mentally cursed himself for sullying the moment.

Astrid reached out for his prosthetic again, with more hesitation. Her eyes were searching for forgiveness and permission, which put Hiccup in the unusual position of granting it. No one ever really worried about what he wanted. It was foreign. It was awkward, and yet…

He gave the briefest of nods and looked away as Astrid unwound the tight cord that held his new limb in place. He felt like his entire body was flushed with embarrassment, and he wondered if Astrid could sense the heat he radiated in his shame. He was astutely aware of the weight that was relieved as she carefully removed his prosthetic, handling his leg with a tenderness that was surprising. The phantom pain was only more profound when there was nothing to even give the illusion of a body part. As Astrid rolled up his pant leg, he tensed again in a state of panic, hoping it came across as a reaction to the pain and not the sensation of her hands on him in a manner entirely too intimate for their burgeoning camaraderie.

"It's not as bad as I thought," he heard her say.

He was not sure if that was meant as a sort of unusual compliment, so he gave a small nod, staring determinedly at Toothless, who seemed rather perplexed by all the strange emotions the two teens were emitting.

Hiccup jumped at the first touch of the hot rag to his exposed stump, feeling his heart pounding in his ears, mixing with the throbbing from the left side of his body. He grasped the edge of the stairs in a white-knuckle grip, take short, shallow breaths through his nose as his sensitive nerve endings screamed at him. In addition to the alarming heat, Astrid began an intermittent kneading, applying firm pressure to his already assaulted injury. Reflexively, he reached out and put his hands over hers, their eyes locking on one another.

He opened his mouth to say something—tell her to stop? Beg her to keep going? He was not sure which sensation was more intense—the pain of her ministrations or the gradual relief he was starting to feel, like a sharp muscle cramp finally letting up. They watched each other closely, and Astrid seemed fascinated by him in that moment. She seemed truly in awe as her gaze alternated between his face and their hands on his leg, moving together. Hiccup was at loss on what to feel or think—about the situation. About Astrid, and her newly found interest in him, in general. He was used to feeling weak and inadequate, but it was very different to willingly expose one's vulnerabilities to another, and let them in. The only thing that made their interaction even remotely acceptable was that it was happening for the sake of pain relief. In no other situation, outside of the realm of propriety, would it have been alright for Astrid to touch him like she was. Still, she did not seem the least bit flustered. In fact, she smiled broadly as he relaxed, feeling the torment of a phantom limb rapidly dwindling from the distraction of heat and her hands.

In a way, Hiccup was grateful the remedy had worked, but it also meant Astrid would no longer have the excuse to touch him, once the burning had completely ebbed. It was confusing and bittersweet, but he decided he would not be opposed to more personal pain relief interventions in the future, if she wanted to provide them. Anything to be closer to Astrid. Anything to make her want to touch him. He only hoped he did not seem foolish—pathetic as he grimaced and sat rigidly from the occasional sharp, shooting pain. He greatly feared giving her any excuse to see him as she used to—a bothersome weakling not worth the attention. He was not sure he could stand to go back to that, after he had twice felt her lips on his skin.

"Sorry for whining," he murmured, sheepishly, hoping she would forgive any undesirable behavior he had displayed.

"Don't apologize," she told him. "Bigger men have cried out. Hiccup, you're…you're surprisingly strong."

He could tell, by the softness in her eyes, that she was being genuine without the slightest hint of ridicule. It was then that he could dare to believe that he possessed some strength of character. Astrid saw it in him, and so he could dare to believe it was true. Strength beyond muscles and cunning was something he had not considered of value to anyone else, but Astrid realized it in him, and for the first time, he felt deeply validated. Even if she never admitted it again, in one of his more vulnerable moments, she had seen him as a worthwhile Viking, and that made a world of difference.

As did the subtle intertwining of their fingers.


End file.
